Patriot or Devotion
by ArchReaperN7
Summary: Shepard and Tali have been living happily on Rannoch for two years. They have lived happily as husband and wife for what feels like generations. But now the Senate has elected a terrible punishment upon Shepard, and Tali may have to choose between patriotism to her people, or devotion to her mate... One-Shot. No intended continuation.


**PATRIOT OR DEVOTION**

Their living room was quite the spacious room, especially for a quarian establishment. It had a homesteady feel, with wooden floorboards and steel backings. John had wanted a less modern home; more like a house than a starship, and she had agreed. So instead of haptic interfaces they had wooden doors with twisting handles. It had taken her awhile to get used to it, but when she had, she had acclimated to it; liked it, even.

One, large vidscreen encompassed the back wall, inactive and with the latest Fleet and Flotilla sequel still ready in the drive, but dormant; paused and not playing. One, long, thirty inch bulb provided all the light in the room, and by its individual self, it was pretty impressive; at night, it made it feel like they were standing under Tikkun's rays, it was that powerful.

A nice, decorative sofa occuped the center, soft as the pillows of their bed; feathers couped up and weaved together with intricate professionalism. A couch fit for intimacy, but used for the comforts of home entertainment; a place for a family to sit down and enjoy each other's company, rather than each other's pleasure. It had numerous pillows all around it, and a nice, purple carpet adorned the floor, the patterns of her clan, Zorah, weaved into its surface; something John had Socrates, a geth friend of theirs, make just for her.

Numerous pictures lined the walls; mere memories. Echoes of time long past, but still images of nostalgia unforgotten. When visitors looked upon their walls, they would see the couple before they were even in a relationship; a picture of the SR-1, and a picture of a crew consisting of a krogan battlemaster gone mercenary, a turian C-Sec viglante, a shy asari archaelogist, a toughened and poetic human family woman, a biotically and technologically capable human man, an ingenius but shy quarian machinist and the man himself: the Hero of the Citadel. Her husband.

They would see pictures of the SR-2 and its crew; a crazy biotic powerhouse, hard-as-nails bounty hunter, extremely powerful baby krogan supersoldier, a geth infiltrator, a genetically perfect human woman, and so much more. All of them were their friends. She saw them begin to develop into something more; simply pictures of two friends becoming more intimate, more close, more important. Eventually they became pictures of her unmasked, then both of them together under the sheets, then of them on their wedding day, then the war, and afterwards.

To her sadness, none of them involved any children. They had not yet contemplated that. A salarian scientist had ensured that they could reproduce, but they had never once considered it. Two years later, they still regretted it.

Another seat, half the size of the sofa, lay on the left, and was occupied. The scarred and bulky form of John Shepard lay on it, sunk deep in its embrace, eyes glazing over the omni-tool glowing on his arm. The man had shaved recently; he's usually heavy stubble now absent. He had a scar carrying across his cheek, along with another along his ear, where it had been cut. She knew he had many more underneath his shirt, but wished not to think of it. The man's face frowned, looking uncomfortable, eyes glaring in a mixture of grief, anger and confusion.

She did not look much different. Tali'Shepard was a changed woman, she'd admit. She was no longer that ingenius but shy quarian machinist, but an experienced quarian marine, tough-as-nails herself, and a shotgun-toting, combat drone packing and overbearing quarian admiral married to _the _toughest man in the galaxy.

She no longer wore a suit, having outlived her need for it a year ago. Now she wore a clean cut shirt, purple in color, with a tight collar. It was modest, as she had wanted it, but enough that her husband could still admire her, just as she also wanted. She neglected to tie up her long, raven black hair when she was at home, electing to let it flow past her shoulders. Her smooth skin was a pale grey, with supple lips, pointed molar teeth and a small nose, her glowing white eyes being a feature John complimented her on more often than not.

She had tried to wear pants or jeans, but found they annoyed her and restricted her movement, so decided to wear the more comfortable long skirts that went just past her knees, leaving her bare legs to the world but keeping her modestly covered. She didn't wear those ridiculous high-heels that human women seemed to be so keen of, instead wearing tightly-tied sneakers when out, and slippers when not.

Another nightmare she was forced to accept now that she was free of her suit was the abomination many females called a 'bra.' John, to her immense amusement even to this day, had been surprised at how large her breasts actually were (as her suit was to compressed that it made them smaller than they were) and when she had tried to walk outside one time after leaving her suit, Kasumi had pulled her back inside to stop her. When she asked why she had stopped her, Kasumi had said that her 'cha chas were bouncing more than Miranda during a combat mission.' And then Kasumi had introduced her to bras. Damn that woman.

Ancestors knew why she had to wear it; she felt almost as imprisoned as she did in the suit. Not only was it a tight fit, but it compressed her breasts so much that sometimes she felt she was choking. Whenever she took it off or John and herself were making love, it felt like a massive weight had been taken off; and she elected to remain in bed as much as possible just to be free of the damn thing. Still, John had emphasized the need for it, justifying it with the jest that 'he didn't want to have to kill a few men for oggling.' It had been enough to convince her.

She sat cross-legged on the sofa, looking at him. Normally, they would be here for one reason: to watch a movie or simply enjoy each other's company. They had been watching the latest Fleet and Flotilla film (something which she almost had to force John at gunpoint to watch and had slapped him when he called it a 'typical chick flick') and had been sinking into each other's warm embrace as they watched. It had been the usual heaven they could now endulge in; no Reapers or Cerberus to worry about.

Then his omni-tool beeped, they read it, and it had all shattered.

He had moved from her and paced around, reading over it. Eventually, he had sat down in the chair and looked over it for what felt like the nineteenth time. The message was really getting to him.

He looked distraught, and she could understand why. He looked confused, angry and ready to kill someone, but he also looked sad, ready to break into tears, and it took every bit of effort she had not to wrap her arms around him and let him cry into his shoulder. But John was not that sort of man. He bottled in his emotions. The only time he had wept was when he thought he had lost her after the final battle on Earth. Only ever once.

But he looked about to do so again.

She remembered the contents of the message in her mind with excruciating detail.

_From: The Senate of Rannoch, Prime Candidate Han'Gerrel pav Rannoch._

_To: Spectre John Shepard pav Rannoch, Citizen of Rannoch._

_Subject: Your Removal._

_It is with the deepest regret that I have to inform you of this horrible news._

_Despite your service to the quarian people and all you have done for us as Liberator of Rannoch and Guardian of the Quarian Species as well as the unionmate of Admiral Zorah, the Senate of Rannoch has seen fit, due to recent evidence, to declare you an exile and banish you from Rannoch._

_The lies you provided during Tali'Zorah's trial have brought to light the fact that you have possibly been lying to us all along and may pose a security risk. In the interest of the quarian people and the safety of Tali'Zorah, the Senate has elected to have you exiled from Rannoch and to never return. You have been given a period of 36 hours, Rannochian Time, to pack your bags and leave. You will not be asked again._

_Have the safest of journies. _

After a while, John seemed to finally turn it off, and glared at the window beyond. Her heart went out to him, while she tried to contain her own emotions. _Why...why are they doing this to him...two years and they only now do this? Why? He gave us Rannoch! He has done nothing but help my people! He's a quarian, in all but physiology! Why can't they see that!_

Finally, he turned to her, blowing out a loud sigh. He looked at her with sadness, with an aching need; letting her know how much he loved her in that one look.

"Well..." he groaned, sniffing as he made a fist with his hand, dropping his cheek on it as he lost the ability to look her in the eyes as he spoke, "I guess that means I have to go."

She widened her eyes in shock, and she couldn't help but raise her voice at this revelation. _He's just giving up? _"What!?" she came to stand, pointing an accusing finger at him, "That's it!? You'll just give up? You can't!"

His voice became a low growl, looking up at her with all the strength he could muster, "There's no option. What am I supposed to do? They think I'm a threat Tali. They'll knock down the door if they think its necessary and I...don't want you to get hurt. Its not fair, but that's the way it is."

Naturally, she was incredulous, "You bosh'tet!" she snarled, slapping his arm, "Stupid, selfish, bosh'tet!"

"I'm not doing this for myself!" he snapped, coming to stand, his face inches from her, "I'm doing this for you! I don't want you to get hurt!"

"And what if I don't care!" she snapped back, unwilling to take his from him, "I can tell you this! You're not leaving! This is our home! We built this house, together! We are _husband and wife. _'Till death do us part!' That's what you said! You've earned _every _right to live here, and they have none to throw you out! This is as much your home as mine...as ours..."

He sighed, a hand reaching up to stroke her cheek, a pained look in his expression. She leaned into it, enjoying the feel of his knuckles brushing across her still sensitive skin, "I'm sorry, Tali. I don't want to leave...I don't...but what Gerrel said is clear..." suddenly, he was angry again, and he whorled away from her, and she almost gasped from the sudden lack of his hand on her cheek, "That son of a bitch!"

She widened her eyes as she watched him angrily paced, confused at his reaction, "What?"

"Gerrel, that sack of shit! I should throttle him! He's been planning this!" he slammed a fist in the wall, denting it slightly, but due to the metal supports it did not shatter like it should, "Ever since we announced our relationship, he's questioned it every step of the way! He never wanted us to get married! And now he's found a way to seperate us! He's probably looking for a suitor for you right now!"

He collapsed into a wall, planting his face against it, "And he's finally won...there's nothing I can do to fight it. I can't fight politics, Tali...I'm going to have to leave you...and I don't know if I...if I..." she suddenly went quiet, breaking himself off as he just stood there, unflinching.

Then she heard it. Weeping. He was weeping. It got gradually louder as it went, growing in pitch, until the whole house could probably hear it. On and on it went, and Tali's mind lost the battle with her heart.

She closed the distance and wrapped her body around his body, pressing her slim, petite form up against his broader frame, laying the side of her head on the back of his as she hummed, like a mother comforting their child, "Sssshhhh...you won't have to leave me. It'll be alright...it'll be alright..."

"Its not fair..." he wept, the slamming of his fist on the wall getting weaker and weaker, "...that bastard...that bosh'tet...after all we've done...all we've achieved...I just wanted...wanted a home...can't even get that..."

"You have a home," she whispered softly, gentle as a butterfly's touch, "And I'll always be with you."

He twisted to face her, wet tears across his cheeks as he sniffed, wrapping his arms around her, pressing his face into her shoulder, "Not this time, Tali. I have to go. I have to leave Rannoch. The exile..."

"...will include me," she stated, without even thinking. She had made a split second decision and unlike many in her life, she did not regret this one.

His head snapped up, looking her in the eyes, "What? No, you can't! This is your ho-"

She shook her head violently, "_You _are my home," she pressed her lips against his for a split second; a quick peck, and leaned her forehead against his as she looked into his eyes, "You always have been. You came back to me, but I don't plan on letting you leave again. Go pack your bags John...I'll pack mine."

"You...don't have to..." he trailed, his resolve weakening as his heart won out; wanting her to come desperately so he wouldn't be without her.

"I know," she grinned slightly, leaning in, "But you're my _saera. _'Til death do us part, that's what you said. Its what I said. You couldn't get rid of me if you tried." With that, she noticed his smile broaden, knowing she had won. Without further hesitation, she moved in, pressing her lips to his in a passionate kiss; lips locked, tongues intermingled in a dance.

Two bodies joined as one, clothes tossed haphazardly as the made love on the Rannochian plains...

...possibly for the last time.

But when it came to patriot or devotion, she'd choose devotion to her husband any day.

_**A/N:**_

_**Just a quick little one-shot as a break. Wanted to see what I could do in a situation like this. Don't go looking for a sequel or a next chapter; this is pure one-shot, and I hope you enjoyed it! :)**_

_**Keelah Se'lai, troopers!**_


End file.
